


overwhelm my senses

by _fainthearted (faintheartednot)



Series: see the light of day [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faintheartednot/pseuds/_fainthearted





	overwhelm my senses

derek remembers the pressure in his chest, the way his lungs felt so heavy, nearly all of his senses were shut down; he couldn't breathe in to take in the scents, he couldn't feel the cold water brushing against his skin from the neck down, no he couldn't feel anything. he couldn't taste the air, couldn't taste the oxygen. all he could hear was the violent sound of the water lapping against the tiles on the outside of the pool but even that was muted. he couldn't hear stiles gasping for breath above the surface, couldn't scent his panic and his fear, all the emotions that stiles wore. 

all he had was sight, the sense he hated most to rely on, but what he saw was stiles legs; usually awkward and flailing, kicking swiftly through the water, as if he hadn't been holding a man, a werewolf above water for two hours, as if his legs weren't aching and his muscles weren't screaming at him. stiles was swimming towards him, the edges of his vision starting to black out, slowly, not all at once, like someone pulling the curtains in and down and every direction so slowly. the look on stiles face was sheer terror, as if he could see the life seeping out of derek, drop by drop, blink by blink, and the last few seconds before he felt stiles hands on him, derek truly thought he was done, over. derek thought it couldn't be any more fitting, stiles being the last thing he'd ever see. 

stiles had been one of the only things derek could see in a long while.

\---

derek tries to forget that feeling. tries to forget that it's wrong, dangerous, reckless; all the things he preaches to his pack not to be. his pack, as if he isn't responsible for a pack of newly turned werewolves. as if he doesn't already have hunters on his back and other foes he doesn't even know about yet. the memory never goes away though. everything was quiet, even when it was terrifying. it was quiet and it was still and it was tranquil. derek didn't have to do anything, more like he couldn't do anything. all he could do was be there, just be.

derek would try it in a private place, he would, but that isn't something he has right now. he doesn't have a bathtub, he doesn't even have a sink, he doesn't have anything big enough to hold him in, and most of all, no running water. it itches at his skin, the sensation of wanting to feel that way again, even if it's dangerous, especially because it's dangerous. it claws at his skin in a way he's never felt before, crawls all over him, wanting to be free just for a couple seconds, not having all his senses bombarded every single moment of the day, 24/7. he wants to not think, not feel, not do anything. that's when he remembers the large lake on the outskirts of hale land.

walking into the water, derek's mind is going a million miles a minute. all his senses are overloading right then, the wolf inside of him telling him no, no don't do this and more than ever, derek is desperate for the quiet. the water grazes his chest, goosebumps popping out all over his body, anticipation and reluctance flooding into his veins. he stands still for a couple seconds, maybe five, maybe twenty, breathing in the scents of the forest. 

he overwhelms himself on them, gorges on them nearly, knowing it'll only make the silence that much better. his feet slide smoothly on the bottom of the lake, going in deeper, deeper, until the water is lapping at his chin. a smile breaks out on his face. peace. he takes in one last breath, feeling his lungs expand to the point where he's sure he can't breathe in any more of the sweet air that he's desperate to not feel.

the water kisses the back of his neck. up, up, up it goes, caressing each individual hair on his head, welcoming. every droplet of water is taking his senses one by one. sense: hearing, sight, touch, smell and taste.

they're all muted. muted and it is bliss. he can feel his feet starting to scrape on the ground as he pushes away from it, deeper. deeper. he can feel the moment no part of his body is touching anything but water and it is glorious. the water is the predator and the prey is his hearing, sight, touch, smell, and taste. it is taking away everything he has to deal with. as his lungs burn and ache and beg for him to just kick up, kick your feet, do something, his eyelids start to fall slowly. peace.

he doesn't know how long it is, how long his eyes have been closed, how long his body has been screaming at him to wake up and do something, anything when he feels the water being displaced around him. his brain is slow to understand, sluggish. his eyes are slow to open, struggling. his eyelids feel like they weigh tons, something he can easily master, usually. he feels fingertips digging into his bicep, tugging on him, pulling him away from his center of peace. another hand now, an arm, actually, draped around his torso and though his mind is slow to realize it, he has felt this before. he knows the body against his, felt it intimately (not nearly as intimate as he'd like) pressed against him in beacon hills high school's pool. stiles. he'd sigh if it wouldn't bring in a mouthful of water.

\---

after laying on his side, coughing up water derek is laid out on the ground, shoulders hips neck body pressing into the banks of the water, tiny waves of water still lapping at the tips of his toes. derek's eyes are wide open, but unseeing. he sees the overcast sky, white clouds pressing into the blue sky turning it grey. his senses are coming to back him slowly.

derek tilts his head to the side, searching stiles out, fills his line of sight, sitting higher up on the bank of the lake, his arms pressing into his thighs, stiles head hanging low. derek would wonder if his hearing was still missing if it wasn't for the breaths he can hear stiles making. shaky, uneven, his panicked breaths bleeding out with every inhale and exhale, if it wasn't for them, he would think he was unable to hear. stiles is many things - wonderful, annoying things - but he is not quiet. his mouth is always going. derek doesn't understand.

he clears his throat; it aches, feels scraped raw, and derek shouldn't take so much pleasure in that feeling.he tries to speak but not even a harsh whisper comes out of his mouth, passes his lips. 

stiles lifts his head slowly, peering over at him as derek tries to get his voice back. his eyes feel like they sear into derek's skin, little lasers covering every inch of his skin, trying and succeeding in reading every word that can't derek speak. he is still quiet though now his lips are at least moving, shaping words but seeming to forget the sounds that go along with them.

derek drags his eyes away from stiles mouth, more than aware he is staring at it too intently, something he doesn't think stiles will miss this time. derek's mind is still in a haze, but he thinks he can read the confusion on stiles pale face, but more than that, he can see the understanding.

understanding. derek's breath is stolen from him again, yanked out of his chest and he sits up quickly, deep hacking coughs fill the air. his mind is at a standstill, unable to comprehend why stiles would understand, what he could be understanding. he can't, can he? he has to be mistaken, he can't know what this is.

\---

stiles finds him. jumps in. gets him out. he doesn’t do what he always does, ramble on and on, doesn’t berate derek. he gives derek a look as if he is scraping the insides of derek he never wants anyone to see. confusion but understanding.

(stiles gets it. his mind is a pinball machine at the best of times, at the worst of times it isn't something he wants anyone else to have to experience. he is never still, always going, going going, but he doesn't have the responsibilities derek does. he can't begin to imagine that weight on him.)


End file.
